A Tale of Apples and Mistletoe
by Andrea Sinisterra
Summary: AU, 1xR. A warrior, she was: a knight dressed in ivory silver, her armor igniting the sun’s rays upon her steel, stunning and conquering those who dared come into her territory unannounced. On hiatus


**A Tale of Apples and Mistletoe**  
By Andrea Sinisterra  
Rated PG-13  
Romance/Mythological  
_Standard Disclaimers Apply_

**Author's Notes:** This was written for Blissful Ignorance's 'The Knight Before Christmas' challenge a while ago. It's not finished, it's just a teaser. I still have a few fics to write and update, I've been kind of busy switching jobs and traveling, but I'm working on them and will update soon.

It goes beyond saying that I didn't get to finish this on time, never met the deadline… Tee hee! I'm working on my Church of Lemons pledge fic, damnit! I AM working! Being Sinner 2006 kinda sucks. No perks for this position.

**Special thanks:** To Caliborn for beta-reading this for me! You're a doll! Wai!

* * *

**Part 1**

She waited for nights on end for them; every day would rise with a willowing heart, shadowing the light like arrogant clouds across the skies. Her temper rose and fell like the inhumane tides, and some of her subjects, if not all, had along the years become afraid of her, measuring their words and avoiding her presence at all costs, not daring to cross her path, knowing they would pay dearly for the transgression.

Her heart, which once had been full of loving tenderness, had hardened with time, and along with it, the land around the castle had started to wither, dried and lost as the people who inhabited the kingdom fought to restore and rebuild the carcass of their once beautiful, flourishing homes.

Some said she was a tyrant, thirsty for victory, assuaging none and plunging into war with bared hands, unrivaled and merciless. A warrior, she was: a knight dressed in ivory silver, her armor igniting the sun's rays upon her steel, stunning and conquering those who dared come into her territory unannounced.

Some said she once loved a man dearly, allowed him to enter her heart where no other had ever been permitted. They said she had been a different woman then, and rumors ran like wild fire telling of how her lilting laughter would run through the palace's halls, like bells on Christmas Eve. But not many believed it, as it was hard to picture the stoic Goddess as anything like happy.

But none, no one dared, they would be liars if they did, would contradict the beauty of her features. She was still, as she had always been the most beautiful creature in the land of the living. She was a goddess, after all, destined to live beyond the limits of time; immortal when few like her still prevailed.

Oh, but how the mighty have fallen!

The Queen would spend her days with her eyes cast upon oblivion, her sight focused on something beyond the distance, centered on something nobody, not even she herself, could see. She used to cry silently to herself every night as she stared out her window, but along the years, she had run out of those tears, choosing to sit quietly by herself to contemplate thoughts she had never shared or voiced. Yes, she was an enigma, a beautiful puzzle many men had tried to solve, but none had succeeded. Many lords, deities from neighboring kingdoms had also tried their luck, but they'd always been sent home with their eyes cast at the highest tower, picturing the beautiful Queen with the empty soul.

She would often think of those few years, so long ago it seemed like a dream; like a vision of some sort that kept haunting her days and tormenting her nights, persistently tempting her to break. But she was steadfast, resolute in her future. She was to remain alone, she knew: alone to reign and find the victory for the people who despised her.

* * *

It perplexed her seeing the look of surprise on the girl's face. She was a pretty thing, young and naïve; Terste was her name. Didn't she know of the queen's laws?

The Queen eyed the girl thoughtfully before standing regally from her marble throne, making her way to the window where the light immediately claimed her presence. It illuminated the paleness of her skin, enhancing it to pearl textures, her shimmering white gown now translucent.

Marrying for love? It was despicable. The poor, innocent, stupid little thing.

"Have you not heard of my laws?" Her voice carried through the walls like ash on the wind, smooth and flowing, almost imperceptible.

The girl let her head drop to her hands, her raven head shaking. The Queen's head angled to the side, as if trying to guess the girl's thoughts. It confused her, these human emotions. They were unpractical and dangerous; they clouded the mind and compromised the judgment. Why did she cry? The Queen could not understand why the girl suffered so; it wasn't as if she had set a death-sentence on her. Though she ought to.

"Why do you cry?" The Queen's words rang loud across the room, harsh and confused. The sound enhanced by the void of the large room. "What is his name?"

Terste raised her head, her emerald eyes full of sorrow and pain. "Belgan, My Queen."

"Belgan." The name seemed to roll off the Queen's tongue like silk, as if she had never spoken a single word before in her life. "You will say your farewells tonight, child."

Terste did not utter a single word after that; her eyes had lost all the light in them, her tears ceasing to flow down her cheeks. She bowed her head solemnly at her Queen before turning on her heels and walking through the mahogany doors, leaving the goddess to her silent vigil. The Queen looked over the bustling town, gazing at the people as they worked. It was still early, barely noon, and the sun sat at its highest spot in the sky.

She closed the windows and drew the curtains, shutting the sun away.

* * *

She sat high upon her steed, observing the fields around her. They were far too quiet, far too still. She knew something was amiss, but there wasn't anything she could do about it now. She wasn't about to go back, and staying there in the middle of it would make her an easy prey. She pressed onward, her hair billowing in the nonexistent air. It seemed as if time itself had stopped, and there was no sound or movement, no butterfly or bird that would denote normal behavior.

The emptiness whistled at her as she sped through the landscape; the black stallion on which she rode seemed to almost float off the ground… Only to halt abruptly when a figure in black appeared before her, a few meters ahead of her so that she was unable to make out its face.

The Queen caressed her stallion's snout softly to calm her down; the wind had suddenly picked up, her golden hair whipping against her porcelain cheeks. She could sense something different in the creature before her, like a latent power held at bay.

The creature turned around on its own stallion, taking lead at a high speed. She didn't waste her time with ridiculous questions, as she whispered softly to her steed, the horse heeding her owner's command and sprinted off after the black figure.

Many hours they spent in their chase, until the day had slowly traversed into nightfall, the forest closing in on them. The night owls refused to hoot, the wolves did not dare to howl; everything was eerily quiet except for their horse's thunderous hooves on the quaking ground.

At last, it seemed, he slowed down. The closer she got, the stronger the scent became. She withdrew her sword from its sheath, the blade shining brightly even in the absence of the night's moon. She stroke swiftly, steel clashing upon steel. He was quick for a human, as he stood steadfast on his horse. He made no grunts of effort and his skills rivaled hers. She marveled at this and could not help but smile at her new finding. It had been a long time since she was last challenged like this.

Each agile strike was met with a smooth cut, and after a particularly deep stroke, his hood shifted and fell to his shoulders, revealing his face. She faltered for a beat and he took advantage of the momentum, bumping the flat of his blade to her side, knocking her off her horse.

Apples. He smelled like apples and mistletoe.

She sunk into the earth, the air knocked out of her lungs with the force of her fall. She was momentarily dazed, and before she could see or do anything about it, he had the edge of his sword to her neck. Her eyes narrowed at him, her chin taut and her lips forming a thin grim line. Her hands formed fists in her outrage, her nostrils flared with the renewed anger that flared in her veins.

How dare this man touch her, a goddess?

"What do you want?" Her voice held authority, clear and resonant even if the position she was currently in allowed no such bravery.

It showed, though, in the movement of his left brow as it rose on his forehead, a small smile adorning his lips. "You."

"Me?" She fell silent when he pressed the edge of the blade tighter against her neck, just under the line of jaw. Her eyes narrowed further still; she was seething inside!

"They say a corrupted Queen rules these domains."

She snorted and then inhaled sharply when he pressed the blade so tightly it cut through her skin, drawing a fine sliver of blood.

"Silver blood." He whispered. He laughed then, shaking his head at her. "This shall raise the bounty, then. A goddess; it should be difficult to kill you."

"I'd like to see you try."

He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up against his side. "Don't tempt me, witch."

* * *

How much time has it been since that day? She had lost count of the weeks. The Earth seemed endless as they traveled through the forests; the trees rose high above their heads, and it was a miracle if any sunrays would get through the dense foliage.

They had stopped for the night at last; the cool night's air chilled her skin. Her white tunic lay smeared with dirt around her, her skin shadowed by days of merciless strain and lack of hygiene. She was tired… and each day that passed, the more furious she got.

She pulled her head away in disgust, seeing his handsome face regarding her so fixedly. There was something about this man, something beyond her comprehension that made him so different from common people. There was no second guessing in his movements, no hesitation in his decisions, and yet everything he did or uttered was perfection. He was agile, as if he were in possession of a certain grace that is not taught, but inherited. He broadcasted that grace in everything he did, right down from his fine holding of his steed's reigns to his perfect dance with a heavily branded sword.

Yes, he had pricked her curiosity in more ways than one.

It unnerved her though, how he lay there on his side, his head propped up on his upturned hand, just gazing at her.

"Why do you stare at me like that?" There was no question in her voice, just the bite of the words.

He shrugged his shoulders at her, clearly fazed by something only he knew and could see. There was a languid slur to his words, like they were dragged off his silver tongue. "It just makes me curious, that's all."

Eidolon neighed softly behind him, and the Queen just smiled at her horse's overprotective manners. "What does?"

"You."

"You walk on perishing ground, man. Don't avoid my questioning with reckless, empty answers."

One of his brows rose high on his handsome forehead, hidden by the beauty of his dark mane. "I'm just curious to know why such a person like you hasn't escaped by now. You've certainly had your chance on several occasions."

There was something in the propriety in which he spoke, the smooth lines of his body's motions, the tone of his voice that made her furious. "Don't think so highly of yourself."

And yet, his words rang through. She had never before been intrigued this much in her life. She wanted to know him, she wanted to break him. Why did he hold so much energy; how could he dare speak with so much authority; how could he own so much control over his thoughts; how could he command so much power without his being conscious of it?

He reminded her so much of him.

The Queen gritted her teeth, compressing them as if she could compress the feeling of sadness welling up inside of her. It served her right, though, for breaking the rules by loving a human. A mistake she would not make twice.

No more words were spoken after that, yet she refused to leave.

By the 16th day, they reached an enormous fortress; the white stonewalls surrounded by apple trees. Heavy vines of mistletoe wrapped tightly around the trunks, enlightening the red with the dark green. The gates creaked and clanked as they were pulled apart, spreading out to reveal a bustling town. Children and vendors walked about, carts upon carts of red, green, and yellow apples were everywhere, as were goats and mules, and sheep and chickens. It was bright with activity, alive and swept up in happiness.

The Queen felt a stirring in her heart at this, her vision clouding momentarily.

The people bowed at them, but the smiles of happiness on their faces by their arrival confused her. It was something she wasn't used to.

The Queen's features were set in stone, as if they were perpetually engraved, never to be altered. It perplexed her: how could these people bow at them so willingly? And who was he? Was he their ruler? He had to be; why else would they bow at him?

When they finally reached the main building, a castle of white stone, two servants aided them as they dismounted, steering the horses away. Eidolon whined, pulling back from the girl's hands.

"Eidolon." The Queen's words were surprisingly soft, caressing the wind as they floated to the uneasy horse's ears. Eidolon quieted down immediately, lowering her head as she was led away easily by the maiden.

The man beside her didn't say a word, instead turned on his heels and entered the castle. The Queen did not hesitate, and strode behind him, intent on finding the answer to her disquietude, knowing that eventually she would break him.

* * *

She had gotten used to the smell; everything around her, from the quilts to the man himself, smelled like apples and mistletoe. It was distracting.

A month and a half had gone by since her arrival, and not even half of that time did she spend with him. He was never around to be seen, and she was left to gaze out her window like she always did, watching the town come alive so early in the dawn hours. She observed these people's routines every day, from the moment they woke up, till the very moment they entered their homes for the night. It was the same thing every day, yet every time it seemed different. It seemed as if it was the first time they ever plucked roots or picked up apples; everything was so different from where she came from, everything so much more alive and enhanced.

"My lady."

The Queen whirled around at the intrusion, not knowing why she continued to be surprised by these servants. They came into her rooms with no permission whatsoever, preparing her bath and making her bed, helping her dress without so much as a frown or a sigh of displeasure. They were not afraid of her; instead they treated her with friendly eyes and concerned manners, asking for her well-being now and then and tending to her everyday needs.

She didn't know what to think.

The girl laid a crown of mistletoe on her bed, right beside the white tunic and dress.

"Why the mistletoe?" The Queen's words held no charm or sweetness to it, though her tone was not sharp.

The maiden smiled softly, her eyes holding a warmth that puzzled the Queen. "In honor of Frigga."

The Queen brows lowered in confusion, not recognizing the name.

The girl walked behind the Queen, her feet at leisure as she reached for the silver brush. "Frigga was the goddess that lived in these lands many centuries ago; they say she was the most beautiful woman among the living. That's why she was called the Goddess of Love and Beauty. One day, the god of the summer sun, Baldur, her son, had a dream foretelling his death, and with it, the end of all things."

"Frigga wanted to ensure her son and Earth's safety, so she went to all of the elements: air, fire, water and earth, as well as to all of the animals and plants, and asked them not to kill her son. They all agreed, but Baldur had only one enemy, Loki. Nobody knows exactly where Loki came from, if he was a goddess or a witch, but he found a loophole in Frigga's request… Mistletoe."

The maiden approached the window and beckoned the Queen to stand by her side. She pointed to the apple trees at the distance, right near the stone walls, knowing the Queen would not have any impediments seeing the mistletoe. "Mistletoe grows on the tree it attaches itself to, and therefore has no roots of its own and could not be affected by her request. Loki made a poisoned dart with mistletoe and tricked the blind brother of Baldur, Hod, into shooting the arrow that killed Baldur. For three days, all the elements tried their hardest to bring Baldur back to life, but they all failed."

"On the fourth day everyone thought Frigga would die of sadness, but instead, according to rumors, the tears that she cried for her dead son changed the red mistletoe berries to white, raising Baldur from the dead. Frigga then reversed mistletoe's bad reputation, and kissed everyone who walked underneath it out of gratitude for getting her son back."

The Queen spotted the man standing by a group near the well, the blazing sun pouring over him as if enhancing his godlike qualities. Even through the distance, she could still see the strange depth of his eyes and the sparkling silver of his sword strapped to his side.

The maiden continued with her tale, but the Queen wanted nothing more than to go outside and face him. "Every year, on the first day of summer and in honor of Baldur's sign, we hold a mistletoe festival to follow with Frigga's wishes. There's a huge feast where we all dance and drink to thank all the gods and elements for saving us and our land."

But the Queen's thoughts had already drifted elsewhere. "I wish to go outside."

* * *

But he wasn't out there, she soon found out, as she discreetly looked over the well and surrounding areas for him. She strode aimlessly around the town, ignoring the friendly eyes of the townsmen she bypassed, picking up her step to avoid the running children who tried to smile at her or give her flowers.

She shifted the familiar weight of her silver blade on her back, her white tunic and skirt dancing in the morning grass at her feet. She wore the crown of mistletoe on her head; the maiden's smile was still etched firmly in her mind.

She was distracted by a pull on the side of her skirt; the instinctual motion to take her sword was swiftly shoved aside when she spotted the little girl hidden behind her. She had a perfect marigold in her hands; the color was so pure it was almost gold, resembling the Queen's tresses.

She looked at the proffered item, not really knowing what to do or how to act. She had always been showered with gifts and pleasantries, but they all had ulterior motives, they all had a second meaning underlying the act. However, what could a young girl, six years at the most, want from her? What ulterior motives could such a child have? More over, why would a child give her a flower? Nobody ever gave her flowers willingly.

The Queen cocked her head to the side, absorbing every single detail of the little girl's face. Her raven hair, fine and long as it shone in the gleaming sun; her beautiful hazel eyes so full of life and curiosity; her small hands clutching the bloom's stem. She was a gorgeous little thing, the Queen realized, sweet and untainted by the evils of the world. But then again, so was every single person of the village. They were friendly, courteous beings, always helping each other.

At long last, she stooped low to the child's level, gazing into her trusting eyes and taking the flower with a grateful nod. "Thank you, princess."

The girl's smile widened, her eyes pulling further at the sides. "Mommy says you're pretty."

The Queen rose again to her full height, unconsciously twirling the flower in her hand. She continued on her walk, aimlessly as she had no destination in mind, but soon noticed the girl was following her, her small figure almost shadowed as she walked by her side.

"Why do you follow me?"

The girl took no hint in the Queen's harsh tone, the words slipping like silk off the child's skin as if they were never spoken.

"Come!" The Queen felt strange suddenly. She had never touched a child before, never had the feeling of holding such a small and frail limb in her hands, never had the opportunity to compare men's weakness against a child's.

She was led on a hurried pace as the kid struggled to keep her step steady on the ground without losing her grip on the Queen's hand. They bypassed a small field of green and yellow grass, the small, picturesque houses still visible. She led her to a small shadowed part where apple trees grew unkempt, mockingbirds singing their medleys from their stand on the trees' branches.

The child collapsed to the floor with a giggle, her back to the broad of the bark. She patted the ground beside her, beckoning the Queen to take a seat at her side.

"Come," she said again.

The Queen was resilient as she looked at the dirty soil upon which the child sat, the Queen's face contorting with her distaste.

"Please?"

The Queen took a hasty seat beside the child, afraid she would break down and cry, like she had often witnessed from children back at her palace. They would hold a tantrum for hours on end if they didn't get what they wanted.

As soon as she was settled beside the child, the latter reached up and placed a tiny peck on the Queen's cheek, giggling and covering her mouth with mischievous hands as she pulled away. Startled, one of the Queen's hands flew to cover her cheek, her eyes wide in their surprise.

The child's only response was to point a dainty finger at the tree's bark above them, the mistletoe's leaves flowing gently in the spring breeze. It was all the answer the Queen needed as she nodded her head in understanding.

"Papa Heero!" The child was up in a flash, dashing across the evergreen to wrap her small arms around the man's leg.

The Queen's eyes clashed in a feral battle of wills with his, holding his stare and daring him... Daring him to do something she was not sure of--something she feared she wouldn't like to know.

* * *

Tbc…

Please review! I'd love to read your opinion on this uncharacteristic fic. It's so different from my usual, I never do fantasy or mythology, so any insight on this would be so very appreciated!


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